Sleep
by HowlWind
Summary: *WARNING* CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2  Filling a prompt for the TWD Kinkmeme community. "After what happened  s2e07 , Daryl can't sleep. He keeps having nightmares. The only time he ever manages to get some rest is when Glenn sleeps with him."
1. Chapter 1

At first it was easy to blow off. Missing a few hours

_or maybe it was days by now_

of sleep was no big deal, right? Shit, people did it all the time before the world ended. But that kind of lifestyle starts to wear on you real quick- that's what they didn't tell you.

Daryl sat on a stump, staring blearily at his feet. What day was it? Hard to know. Time kind of ran together after… well, After Sophia. The minute she staggered out of that barn, that shithole filled with had-been-humans, the world ended all over again. Least ways, that was how it seemed.

Everything felt so heavy. His limbs were like lead, even his eyelids seemed too cumbersome to lift. Breathing was another struggle in and of itself. Living had suddenly become oppressive, unnatural. Something you had to work at, rather than it just _happening._

Sleep. He'd never really sat back and thought about it before. It happened most every night, a few hours of nothingness where the body rests while the mind wanders. Even after the walkers came, it was still pretty easy to drift off for a while at night.

_every day was so damn exhausting, it was almost impossible not to sleep_

Except for now. Now, every time he closed his eyes, he saw death. He saw a lost child, a weeping mother, and utter devastation. Sometimes he was just watching Rick pull the trigger, other times he was the one who put the bullet in Sophia's head. Didn't matter much, though- it was enough to break a man any way you looked at it.


	2. Chapter 2

The first night he woke the camp up with his screams, Daryl knew the problem was getting out of hand.

"Jesus wept, what the fuck was that about?"

Rick was at the opening of his tent, breathing erratically, his gun clutched in pale fingers. Shane was close behind, his wide eyes scanning the camp with panic. The rest of the survivors hung back, unsure. Carl clung to his mother.

"What the fuck happened, Daryl? Was it a walker?"

Daryl shook his head. "Nah man, nah. It wasn't nothing. Just… bad dreams, you know? Just dreams."

Rick exhaled, and seemed to slump into himself. He looked old all of a sudden, used up and gone bad. "That's all?" he asked. "Just nightmares?"

"Yeah man. That's all. Sorry. I'm sorry."

The two men left Daryl, returning to their respective tents. Silence settled over the camp again.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl started spending his nights away from the rest of the group after that. He didn't want them to know how badly he was affected. No one appreciates being woken up by screams, not in this new reality. There wasn't any need to panic people like that.

Then he began trying to avoid sleep altogether.

Every night was the same. He'd go to bed, close his eyes, and instantly be submerged in his own personal hell. Why bother trying to sleep when he knew he'd just have to relive his failure and Sophia's death over and over again? Daryl had heard you could go crazy from sleep deprivation, even die of it, and maybe that would be for the best. Then he'd have his own escape from this broken fucking world.

He tossed in his sleeping bag restlessly. Sat up. Cursed.

_Enough of this shit._

Daryl grabbed a blanket, threw open the flap of his tent and stalked out. His anger was rising. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted that sweet escape offered by dreamless rest. If he couldn't have that, well, shit. _Shit._ He'd rather be dead.

There was still a fire burning low in the center of the camp, embers glowing red in the darkness. Daryl collapsed in one of the chairs surrounding the pit, blanket wrapped tightly around him.

He stared at the coals, and felt the same heat burning within him.


	4. Chapter 4

Glenn woke gradually. There was a dull ache hanging just behind his eyes, a pain he hadn't been able to shake since the massacre at the barn.

Grief wore on people in different ways.

He turned to his side, staring aimlessly at the blackness in his tent. He couldn't seem to drop back into sleep. There was a dry tickle at the back of his throat, and the water supply was kept by the RV. He sighed. It looked like he'd be getting out of the sack after all.

Rising with a stretch, Glenn padded out of his tent. He grabbed a bottle of water by the RV, and swigged some of it gratefully. The cool liquid felt good on his scratchy throat.

Sometimes it was the little things that sustained you, he thought.

Like the fact that he was still alive to enjoy something as simple as a long drink of cold water. Or the feeling of Georgia's night air on his bare arms. Or how insanely fucking bright the stars were, now that there wasn't any light pollution to obscure them- now that the cities were dead.

Yikes. Talk about a downer.

He turned to walk back to his tent, then paused; was someone sitting by the fire? Glenn didn't know what time it was exactly, but too damn late to be sitting by a fire instead of catching some much needed z's. He headed over.

"…Daryl? What are you doing up?"

When the older man turned to look at him, Glenn stepped back in shock.

"Shit, man. You look… you look _awful_."

Daryl grunted. "Thanks a lot, Chinaman."

Glenn dropped into the chair next to him, then scooted in closer so they could talk without the others hearing them.

"I'm serious, Daryl. How long has it been since you've slept?"

When Daryl finally met his eyes, Glenn winced. His eyes were bloodshot, and half-closed.

"Dunno. How long has it been since Sophia… since she died?"

"Been a little over a week now."

"'bout a week, then."

Glenn started. "A _week?_ You haven't slept in a _week?_"

Daryl shrugged. "Guess not. Not really. Every time I try, it's just-" he trailed off, staring at nothing with unfocused eyes.

The Korean rocked back on his heels. "Just what?"

"Just death. All I see is death. I can't stop dreaming about it. I can't take it anymore. I'm tired. I'm too damn tired to be dreaming about all this shit, not after living it every day."

Glenn absorbed this information silently. His quiet presence seemed to prompt Daryl to say more.

"It wasn't supposed to be like that. She wasn't supposed to fucking die. Shit, man, she was just a kid. If I'da tracked her better, looked harder, some fuckin' thing… she'd be alive. I fucked up, and she's dead because of me. It's my fault."

That was too much for Glenn to take. "Are you kidding? You looked for her so hard you almost got yourself killed too. You're human, Daryl. You did the best you could, but not even you could bring her back from the dead."

Daryl just shook his head. It took Glenn a moment to realize there were tears on his face. "Aw, shit Daryl…"

The older man scrubbed the back of his hand violently across his eyes. "Get lost kid. I'm done talking. Fuck off and go back to your tent."

"I'm comfortable right here, actually." To prove just how comfortable the busted down lawn chair he currently occupied was, Glenn leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Asshole."

They sat there taciturnly for a while. Glenn became aware of Daryl's breathing- or rather, the way it had evened out. There was a sudden pressure on his arm. He looked down in surprise, to see Daryl's head resting on his shoulder.

He was _sleeping_. The man had actually fallen asleep sitting up, and was now using Glenn as a headrest. Well, that suited him just fine, if it meant the stubborn prick was finally getting some rest. Glenn relaxed again.

Guess he'd be here for the rest of the night.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning was weird. The companionable silence the two men had shared the night before was gone, replaced again by Daryl's seemingly forced tolerance of Glenn. On his way out to hunt, Daryl wouldn't even meet the Korean boy's eyes, even as he brushed past him on the way to the woods.

Once he was safely ensconced in the forest, Daryl allowed himself to think again. Everything came easier to him when he was hunting, even ruminating on tough subjects.

_What the fuck happened?_

All he remembered from last night was Glenn's sudden appearance by his side, their hushed conversation under the night sky.

_I ran my damn mouth too much._

Daryl kicked at the ground, cussing softly. Sharing too much was dangerous, made you weak, vulnerable. He wouldn't let it happen again. But…

_But nothing, dammit._

But… He'd _slept_ last night. Really slept, no nightmares, no screaming, nothing. Just pure rest. Daryl had woke after about five hours, his head still dropped on Glenn's shoulder. That was a fucking shocker, right there, and he found himself jolting out of his sleep before practically running away from the firepit. He shook his head now, to clear the memory. It was time to focus on the hunt. Anyway, the night before was a fluke. Things must just be getting back to normal, that's what time did. Healed things.

It was just time.


	6. Chapter 6

That night Daryl jerked violently awake with a scream caught in his throat. He twisted to his side, dry heaving, eyes watering.

_Shit shit shit not again no_

The nightmares were back. Oh man, were they back. A shudder ran through his whole body as he began to shiver. Daryl was suddenly overcome with the need to not be alone anymore. His first thought was Glenn. The kid had helped last night (_somehow_), the same trick would work twice.

Daryl stumbled out of his tent, making his way unsteadily to the other side of camp. Glenn's tent was also slightly removed from the main area, tucked in a grouping of big oaks. Daryl collapsed to his knees in front of it, unzipping the flap.

"Wha… the fuck? Who's there?" Glenn's confused voice sounded from inside.

"Shut up kid, it's just me."

"Daryl? Wha-"

"You deaf? I said _shut up_."

Daryl crawled inside the tent and zipped the flap up behind him. Glenn was sitting up awkwardly inside his sleeping bag, still confused as fuck.

"I had a nightmare."

Glenn blinked. "You… okay. A nightmare?"

"Yeah. Last night by the fire? I didn't. I slept. But tonight- they're back."

He paused, unsure of how to continue. The kid just stared at him.

"I…" Daryl rubbed at the back of his neck. "Look, Glenn, don't make me spell it out. I just don't want to be alone right now, okay?"

Glenn studied him for a second, then nodded. "Sure, Daryl. Whatever you need."

Relieved, Daryl collapsed next to Glenn, wrapping himself in one of the kid's spare blankets. Glenn followed suit, lowering himself to the ground.

They lay there peacefully for a while. Soon enough, Daryl's breathing evened out, and Glenn followed shortly thereafter.

The two men slept, and dreamed of nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

It became a nightly ritual.

The two men would retire to their separate tents, and about an hour after everyone had settled in, Daryl would appear outside Glenn's tent and quietly let himself in. He started bringing his own blanket by the third night (Glenn bitched up a storm if it was too cold and Daryl stole his extra covers).

This kind of unspoken arrangement was a comfort to both of them. It was hard to be alone in normal circumstances- but after the apocalypse? Shit, being alone was like _torture_. Having someone to spend the night with was downright agreeable. There was always someone there when you woke up. You knew you weren't alone anymore. In the morning, Daryl would sneak out before dawn and slink back to his own tent (which was now only a few feet away; he'd moved it next to Glenn's pretty damn quick).

On the fifth night, Daryl finally spoke.

"I appreciate this, you know. You lettin' me sleep here, not makin' a big deal of it or nothin'."

Glenn turned to face him. "Hey man, I'm just glad you're getting rest again. You're an ornery bastard at the best of times, and when you're sleep deprived? You're a major di-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the pillow slamming into his face. Glenn was so shocked for a minute that he couldn't talk, even after his face was uncovered again.

Then he started to giggle.

"Shut up, kid."

Glenn started to laugh harder.

"What are you tryin' to do? Blow our cover? Knock it off!"

Glenn quaked with (nearly) silent mirth, shaking his head. He gasped, "A pillow… a fucking pillow... Daryl goddamn Dixon tried to start a p-p-pillow fight with me…"

"I'd just as soon smother you with the fuckin' thing at this point, damn." But now even Daryl could feel the corner of his mouth being pulled up by a smile.

Sometimes the world was fucking ridiculous.

They calmed down, and silence fell over the tent once again. Glenn moved closer to Daryl in the darkness, and the older man said nothing about it, accepting the change silently. Eventually he turned his head so he was resting on Glenn's shoulder again, like the first night.

Things would never be normal again, but maybe this was a good enough substitute.

Daryl and Glenn slept and dreamed, for the first time in a long time, of life.


	8. Chapter 8

_[Author's note: My prompt stipulated that the events of this fic should _"_…eventually (EVENTUALLY) leads to them getting together." So here's that eventually. This is the second to last chapter- chapter 9 will be pretty short and involve a brief, fluffy love scene, for those of you that have been waiting for it with bated breath. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint. These two chapters are a lot less serious than the previous ones, largely because I feel like Daryl himself is starting to loosen up as a character. I hope you're all enjoying this, and thank you for taking the time to read.]_

_EVENTUALLY…_

"Hey fuckstick, how's the view up there?"

"Shut it, loser!" Glenn shouted.

Daryl rocked back on his heels and grinned widely. Today was a good day.

Well. For Daryl, at least.

Glenn had different ideas about how the day was going. Glenn was also currently some 75 odd feet off the ground, scaling the side of a water tower. This was a stretch even for him- usually he preferred to do his adventuring with two feet planted firmly on the ground.

The two men were on a scavenging mission somewhere in bum-fuck nowhere: Claxton, Georgia. There were a few supplies the group needed that could be found easily enough in towns that hadn't had a high population in the first place. The big cities were peopled only by the dead now. But in these small towns… The populations had mostly split, heading for places like Atlanta.

_Big fuckin'mistake._

There wasn't safety in numbers, but those poor bastards had no way to know that. So the small towns that hadn't already been looted by other survivors still had a good amount of supplies. And more importantly, not many walkers. Glenn and Daryl had visited the local hospital and hit the goddamn _jackpot._ There were only two geeks inside, but there was a whole mess of antibiotics, cold medicine, and bandages. Their little group of survivors had learned the hard way that you could never have enough medical supplies, for yourself and trading with other groups they met along the way. There were a few mom-and-pop stores here as well that were basically untouched. Enough for them to pick up new sleeping bags, tents, and some cold-weather gear (the temperature was going to be dropping soon). Everything was now stored safely in the back of their truck.

Yep. Good day.

Glenn had reached the top of the tower and stood on the catwalk. He stomped his feet a few times, then yelled down, "Seems sturdy to me. Your turn!"

Daryl grabbed the lowest rung and began to climb the tower. They had decided to spend the night here rather than try and drive back to camp. It was a good distance to travel, and the two were worn out after walking through the ghost town. The water tower had seemed like their best bet for a safe place to stay- walkers weren't too good with the coordination needed to climb ladders. He reached the top and swung onto the catwalk, then sat down heavily next to Glenn.

"Sure you aren't getting too old for this shit?" the kid cracked.

Daryl punched his arm. "Punkass. That climb wasn't nothin', don't know what you were bitchin' about."

Glenn leaned against the tower and closed his eyes. "I'm not a big fan of heights. Falling and breaking your back would be a hell of a way to go. You probably couldn't even crawl away from walkers if that happened."

The older man made a noise of agreement and sprawled next to Glenn, resting his head in the kid's lap. The sky was dimming, and everything was downright peaceful. Daryl drifted to sleep for a while, waking when Glenn began absentmindedly playing with his hair.

"Get some sleep, kid."

"You know, I think I'm going to stay up for a while. Just enjoy the quiet. No kids around, no crazy Shane trying to start a fight, or Dale telling stories about 'the old days'. It's… nice. Just being with you."

"You ain't lyin' about that."

Over the past few months, the two men had grown almost inseparable. They'd stopped trying to hide that they spent the nights together. Figured something that small shouldn't matter, especially now that there were more pressing issues to occupy everyone's time… like flesh-eating monsters. Things had progressed from there (as they often do), and now they were more or less a couple.

And the first night they'd done more than just sleep side by side?

Man, had that been one _hell _of a night.


	9. Chapter 9

_[Author's note: italic text surround by ** indicates a flashback]_

_*Glenn was in the half-state between sleep and wakefulness when Daryl stepped into the tent. He instinctively shifted over to give the other man more room to lie down beside him. Daryl gracelessly crashed down next to him and pulled a share of the blankets over himself._

"_Damn dude, leave some for me." Glenn grumbled, tugging at his corner of the blanket._

"_Sorry 'bout that."_

_Glenn started. Out of all the things he had expected, an apology wasn't one of them. He rolled over to face Daryl._

"_Everything okay, old man?"_

"_Yeah. Just feelin' tired, that's all. Real fuckin' beat."_

_He understood. Today had been tough- Shane was swiftly becoming more and more unstable. His erratic behavior worried the rest of the group, and apparently not even Daryl was immune from the general air of unease that had permeated the camp._

"_I'm sure things will turn out fine. It's not like Rick's going to let shit like that fly for long. Not with another kid on the way."_

"_I know. I just like it when the only thing I have to worry about is the walkers, and not the people who're supposed to be watchin' my back."_

_Glenn had no response. He just reached out and grabbed Daryl's hand in his own. Normally they'd drift to sleep like that, touching in some small way. Tonight was a different story; Daryl responded by pulling the younger man closer, locking him in a tight embrace._

_It was so unexpected that it was shocking, but when that feeling passed… It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. The two men held each other for a moment before Glenn tilted his head and found Daryl's lips with his own. They shared a long kiss, Glenn running his hand up the back of his partner's neck before burying it in his already tousled hair. _

_It felt like liquid fire was running through their veins. It was an addicting sensation. _

_They broke for air. Like so many of their interactions to date, this one was marked by silence; there were no words for this. Daryl shifted so his body was covering Glenn's, leaning down to initiate another deep kiss. The younger man's hands reached up, first grasping for purchase in Daryl's clothing, then sliding under them to glide over hot skin._

_The sweet friction of their bodies moving together in the darkness was made all the more delicious by the fact that neither man had ever expected to experience this kind of intimacy again. Suddenly, the world seemed more manageable. Things always did when you had someone you cared for at your side._

_Fuck the apocalypse- they were finally ready to start living again.*_

**Back on the tower…**

Eventually Glenn shifted position, and lay down by Daryl's side. They curled into each other on the narrow catwalk, and Daryl had just began to nod off again when Glenn's whispered voice brought him back from the brink.

"Hey Daryl?"

"What?"

"Have you ever wanted to swim naked in a water tower? Like in the movies?"

"Glenn. Go the fuck to sleep."

"Love you too, Daryl."

"…Love ya."

_Well shit. There was always tomorrow._

-END-

_[Author's note: And thus marks the conclusion of 'Sleep'. Thanks for reading- I hope you all enjoyed it, and please feel free to leave reviews… This is one of my first attempts at fanfiction in many years, and I'd like to hear what I did right/wrong! If you're interested in more of my take on Daryl, check out my other fic 'Redemption' which is basically an introspection of Daryl Dixon and his search for Sophia.]_


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